


Master

by theravenwrites



Category: Chalice - Robin McKinley
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theravenwrites/pseuds/theravenwrites
Summary: Liapnir reflects on his return to humanity





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxinthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxinthestars/gifts).



Liapnir still did not sleep regularly. Mirasol lay breathing gently beside him and he looked at her peaceful expression with a mixture of awe and envy. He thought it bothered her that, despite her best efforts, she could not match his insomnia, not even by trying her hardest. Mirasol hated to think there was something she could not accomplish but more than that, he knew, she hated the idea that there might still be something of Fire in him, that he might not have been as fully returned to humanity as they had let it be known throughout the demesne.

But Liapnir felt human. He had mass and weight like a human, he could move like a human and he even resembled his old self. Fire no longer called to him as it once had. Sometimes, when he was lost in thought reading a report or otherwise distracted, maybe walking the earthlines, he thought he heard his name, his name in Fire, being whispered behind his back. But when he paused to listen there was nothing there. And that was fine.

At the end of the day Liapnir preferred to be human. It made his Mastership easier, and he could not have taken a wife if he was still of Fire. But otherwise he found it difficult to muster a stronger opinion one way or the other, just as when he had been sent away as a child. The power of Fire was no small enticement, although of course what must be given up was great.

Perhaps it was odd, to feel so neutrally about one’s own corporeality, but duty above personal preference had long been the law of the demesnes. Even Mirasol could understand that, although she rarely spoke about it in less than positive terms. Once she had expressed her ambivalence to him but since their marriage she had seemed to accept that everything had worked out for the best and was as it should be.

Liapnir gently pushed back a strand of hair from Mirasol’s cheek and reflected that he could hardly have done such a thing if he were still in Fire. No, he was happy to be where he was, in a comfortable bed with the woman he loved, knowing that his demesne was well taken care of. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he had never left Fire to return to the demesne that would have been all right with him, as well. He had tried his best to avoid having Mirasol find out about that, fearing it would be offensive to her. She was a pragmatic woman but even so there were limits to what the human heart could accept.

The first birds began to sing outside and Liapnir yawned. It seemed there was to be no more sleep this night. Perhaps an early walk to clear his head before the morning’s round of meetings. Careful not to disturb Mirasol, Liapnir dressed and crept through the near silent House to the stables where old Ponty whickered at him hopefully. 

At over twenty the old pony was still going strong and even though he could no longer bear Liapnir’s weight he enjoyed the exercise of his restless habits. Liapnir no longer bothered even with a lead line and halter, confident that Ponty would follow him as he chose or make his way back to the stable. 

Outside the air was crisp and fresh, the sky lightening to grey. It was early spring and there was a chill to the air, or perhaps Liapnir still caught cold easily, he was never sure without Mirasol to judge for him. She had a matter of fact way about her that he loved, the set of her eyebrows when she made a decision, even about something so trivial as whether or not he was colder than he ought to be.

Smiling to himself, lost in thought, Liapnir let his feet guide him through his demesne. He could feel the earthlines, humming below the ground. They were almost purring like cats stretched out on a hearth. Without quite realizing it Liapnir found himself mounting Listening Hill. He had not been there for quite some time. He tried to avoid the appearance of avoiding it or of being obsessed. It was still a haunted part of the demesne, one where the earthlines still bent a little oddly and uncomfortably in their tracks like an old bruise that, while tender, was slowly fading.

Ponty bent his head to the grass while Liapnir stood, staring at the ground as if he could see through it. The memory of Fire was strong, here, and so too were his own memories of finding Mirasol almost dead under a small heap of snow. He had been so grateful for Fire, then, more actively thankful than he had ever been, not even when he was able to stop the forest fire. Even then he knew Mirasol was precious, different, able to see his worth and willing to look past Fire to support him. When he had thought she was desperate enough to try to end her own life… No, it did not bear dwelling on. He had been wrong, at any account.

But thoughts of his own Chalice’s near death naturally led to the previous Chalice’s very real death at this spot. He had long wondered what she had been like. He didn’t remember her, if they had ever met. But he thought she was young, and pretty, but pretty in a way that she was not aware of. But certainly his brother had been. He had always been alive to women’s beauty, and how he might take advantage of it for his own satisfaction. Probably the old Chalice had loved him for noticing her, and that was enough for her.

Liapnir let out a breath and relaxed his fists. He was so angry with that other Chalice for being grateful for his brother’s attention, so desperate to keep it that she would risk everyone else. It was too similar to his own desperation, that his people might accept him and love him. What lengths would he go to? He had already changed himself completely so that they might allow him to stay. Yes, he was happy to be human again but why had they not seen that he was good enough before -- 

“Liapnir!” Mirasol called and he turned to see her striding up the hill wrapped up in one of his cloaks. “What are you doing up here so early?”

Liapnir smiled, extending an arm and pulling his wife in against his side. Her warmth made him realize how cold he was and he buried his nose in her hair. “Nothing important. Have you eaten breakfast?”


End file.
